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Great Writing - Home > SF > Rimworld: 2
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Science Fiction and Fantasy
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| Rimworld: 2 | |
| By Mr_E_Writer | ||||
| 02 August 2008 | ||||
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He had left his homeland on the first eve of the second cycle, flush with success in the gambling halls of Bléu Liéu. Seeking the blessing of the gods, Armitage had tarried at the Basilica zgstérn to receive the words of the holy seers. And it was here, standing awe stricken beneath the frescoes that covered the ceiling of the Grand Chapel's polished porcelain dome, that he had first heard the recital of the P'Destal, the lore that foretold of the changing of the waters. For it was said that, during a time of great upheaval, the skies would become blackened, a mighty thunder would fill the heavens, and a deluge of foul rain would fall upon the land and upon the sea. And, at this time, the one true god would return to take up his rightful seat upon the Great Throne, whereupon He would drain away the ocean's fetid waters to nothingness and, upon the wave of His hand, the mighty waterfalls that circle the Great Ocean would spring into life, filling the bottomless void once more with clear, fresh water. Almost two cycles had passed since Armitage had left the sanctuary of the Basilica's walls, yet still he rode undaunted across the surface of Rimworld in search of a fortune. It was as he approached the very edge itself, that Armitage came across an enormous cloche-shaped building. Formed from corrugated fibreboard, the construct teetered precariously half over the edge; its trunk-like supports embedded so deep into the white cliffs as to give the impression they were the appendages of some symbiotic life form growing from the wall of Rimworld. "Hold. Who encroaches upon my claimland?" Armitage turned to see the emaciated frame and hirsute face of an outlander. The man looked to be in his sixth decade; as indeed did the weapon pointed menacingly at Armitage's midriff. Armitage smiled openly. "Peace, my cousin. I mean no hurtfulness, I merely seek a few hours of rest and company before continuing on my quest. May I tarry here?" "As you wish, hog rider, for this is a free world. But please, respect my privacy." "Of course," replied Armitage and dismounted. "What is it that you are doing here?" "I thought we agreed you'd mind my privacy." "My apologies, outlander, but I am naturally inquisitive." "Hmmphh!!" Armitage unhooked a saddlebag and removed his prayer mat. "If you have no objections, I would make peace with the gods before sharing my food with a new friend." "Ah! So you're a fundamentalist. Why did you not say so before?" Armitage smiled again and held out his left hand. "It is my aim in this life to make friends through my goodness rather than through my gods. My name is Armitage." "And I'm Bhaing," replied the outlander as he holstered his handgun and shook Armitage's hand. "You want to know what I'm doing out here at the edge?" He unbuttoned a pouch of his greatcoat. "Here, take this eyeglass. Look to the abyss and tell me what you see." Armitage accepted the telescope and placed it to his right eye. For several moments he peered down towards the clouds. "A flight of birds. They're flying in a V formation. Green birds." "Yes, green birds. Ducks, in fact. I call them Lettes," said Bhaing. Armitage offered a quizzical expression. "Lettes?" "Tell me, friend, where is it that they fly to do you think?" "Who can know the thinking of the birds?" "It is of no matter what they think or to where they fly, but consider you this, these birds will require a place to land." "As do they all." "Yes, indeed, as do they all. It is my belief that, somewhere out there in the abyss, somewhere out there beyond the clouds and the stars, there are undiscovered lands, unknown worlds." Bhaing turned and gestured with an outstretched arm. "Housed within this building you see behind me is an ornithopter, a ship of the air, with which I intend to fly like the birds to these faraway lands." Armitage scratched his scalp. "An airship! You intend to sail it, Bhaing?" "Of course," said the outlander and offered Armitage a cup of fresh water from a hipflask, his hand shaking with excitement. "Take care!" exclaimed Armitage. "You might spill it, Bhaing. My sajjāda is my most precious possession and I cannot afford to have you soil it, Bhaing." "Forgive me, my friend, for I tremble with anticipation. Come, come, let me show you my flying machine."
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